


caving in, crumbling in your hips, your lips, they're mine

by iphigenias



Category: When We First Met (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, aka the movie should've been a lesbian rom com and I'm here to fix that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 19:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13770864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias
Summary: They’d moved out together sophomore year. A smaller place than the one they have now, one easily affordable for two nearly-broke twenty-year-olds and within walking distance of their local Starbucks. They didn’t have to share a room anymore, but most nights would still see Carrie sprawled with her homework on Avery’s bed while Avery worked at her desk, speakers softly playing Count Basie. And it was kind of ridiculously perfect. Carrie wished it would last forever – and it did, until Phil, and until Ethan.People have to grow up sometime, she supposes. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.





	caving in, crumbling in your hips, your lips, they're mine

**Author's Note:**

> some dickhead on twitter told me I needed mental help when I mentioned writing a carrie/avery fic, so this one's for you @zalexsource. get absolutely fucked!
> 
> anyway I loved the movie but you know how it could've been better? lesbians. you're welcome
> 
> title is from lesbian jesus hayley kiyoko's 'cliff's edge'

It’s Carrie who wants to go to the party that night. She and Phil have been permanently “off” in their off and on again relationship for over a week now, and it’s been a week of cheap wine, eating her feelings, and too many embarrassing breakdowns in the shower to count. She’d really thought she was over him – had told Avery so, repeatedly, three glasses deep into a bottle of red while her best friend nodded understandingly and said “uh huh, okay, Carrie, I think maybe it’s time for some water and a nap, yeah?” And Carrie nodded back, had some water and gone to bed, because when has she ever said no to Avery?

So, the party. Carrie’s had her costume for over a month, picked out with Phil when they were still together, and she’ll be dead before she lets something like her stupid ex-boyfriend ruin Halloween. But it does mean she needs someone to go with – and Avery has no plans. Also no costume, but Carrie fixes that (even if Avery’s never seen _A League of Their Own_ , which, you know, Carrie’s gonna have to take some time to forgive her for that). She even does Avery’s hair, tongue between her teeth in concentration as she curls it just so. Avery laughs at her face but it’s not a mean laugh, it never is – Avery laughs like the sun shines, and it’s warm and familiar and for the first time in over a week makes Carrie feel somewhat less like the sack of shit she’s been since Phil.

“Perfect,” she says, gently running her fingers through the ends of Avery’s hair. “If anyone asks, you’re Dottie Hinson, remember?”

Avery smiles. “Dottie Hinson. Got it.”

“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen the movie.” Carrie shakes her head as she packs the curler away. “How are we still friends?”

“Because you love me,” Avery grins, standing and turning to check her hair in the bathroom mirror. “It looks amazing, Carrie, thank you.”

Carrie boops her on the nose. “Don’t mention it. Now go get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”

The party is already in full swing when they arrive. Carrie spots Phil almost as soon as she walks in, in his stupid costume she’d laughed so hard at when they picked it out together. He’s giving Jell-O shots to a group of girls who look young enough to be in high school. Carrie ignores the flip-flop of her stomach and steers Avery over to the drinks, double-parking on her first order because she knows it’s gonna be a long night.

But it isn’t, at first. She and Avery hit the dance floor together, drinks sloshing in their cups, Carrie’s goggles fogging up from the exertion, and it’s fun and carefree and the best Halloween she’s had in years. And it’s with slight smugness that she notices how Avery’s hair stays perfectly curled, even during the Macarena. So, yeah. Carrie’s having a good night. She leaves Avery to go refill their drinks, and when she’s at the bar she turns to see her friend chatting up some guy in a stupid blonde wig who looks half-gone on Avery already, even though they’ve only been talking for a minute, tops. Carrie rolls her eyes. She wants her friend to have fun, of course she does – but yeah, it smarts a little, seeing Avery smile at a guy like that so soon after Carrie’s breakup. But hey, she’s a supportive friend, or whatever, so she toasts her solo cup to Avery when the guy’s back is turned, catching her eye and laughing when Avery starts to blush. And, well, she’s already ordered for Avery, so she sculls both drinks before heading back out onto the dance floor. She’s kind of well and truly drunk by now, so when Phil comes up behind her, lays a familiar hand on the small of her back, things are already a little blurry around the edges and really, she can’t be blamed for kissing him. It’s not like Avery’s there to stop her.

Three hours later, Carrie stumbles home, lips red and swollen and stomach churning not just from the alcohol. She can’t _believe_ she was so _stupid_. Turns her back on Phil for one second to get another drink, and he’s already with another girl, giving her a Jell-O shot from his monumentally stupid fake syringe. That sobered Carrie up quick. She dumped the drink all over Phil’s scrubs, dumped him for the final time, and walked the long way home.

So yeah, it stings a little when she gets inside and Avery is smiling to herself as she rinses out two bowls in the sink. “Good night?” Carrie manages to ask with only a hint of bitterness that looks like Avery is too drunk to even notice.

“ _Great_ night,” she says, still smiling to herself. “I met the nicest guy.”

“Oh yeah?” Carrie undoes her pigtails and brushes her fingers through her hair. “So did you two…”

“What? _No._ ” Avery giggles. Honest to God _giggles_ , who even is she? “It wasn’t like that. He’s just a friend.” Only Carrie remembers the way he’d looked at Avery at the party, and maybe Avery thinks they’re only friends, but she’d bet money that he thought they could be more. “How was your night? Sorry I kinda ditched you, but you looked busy with Phil, so…”

Carrie shrugs. “Yeah, that was a mistake and a half.” It’s hard to keep the hurt out of her voice, but she manages. “I’m beat, actually, so I’m just gonna head to bed.”

“Oh, okay.” Avery walks over and wraps Carrie up in a warm hug. “Thanks for tonight,” she says, and her breath tickles the back of Carrie’s neck. “Sorry I was a bad friend.”

“You could _never_ be a bad friend,” Carrie insists, pulling back from the hug.

“Even when I haven’t seen _A League of Their Own_?”

Carrie laughs. Smoothes down an errant curl on Avery’s forehead. “Even then.”

*

The thing is, even if they haven’t known each other for forever, it sure feels like they have. Carrie’s pretty sure she hit the jackpot with freshman roommates, because Avery had been the nicest, kindest, neatest girl she’d known in her life. They did their laundry together and on the days when Avery would fetch it from the machine, Carrie would come back to their dorm to find her clothes all neatly sorted on her bed. “Oh, sorry,” Avery would laugh. “I was doing mine and then I just kept folding. Do you mind?”

If there was one thing Carrie could fault her roomie on, it was her music taste. “Jonas Brothers?” she said incredulously, scrolling through Avery’s iPod as her friend laughed and buried her head in her hands. “Are you twelve?” So she’d set about giving Avery a musical education. A little soul, some 90s rap – but mostly jazz, which Carrie had told Avery point blank that if she didn’t like it, they couldn’t be friends.

Luckily, Avery liked it.

Carrie happily burned her playlists onto discs to upload into Avery’s iTunes library, and soon enough the tinny sound coming from Avery’s earphones as she studied wasn’t One Direction. It was kind of a huge deal.

They’d moved out together sophomore year. A smaller place than the one they have now, one easily affordable for two nearly-broke twenty-year-olds and within walking distance of their local Starbucks. They didn’t have to share a room anymore, but most nights would still see Carrie sprawled with her homework on Avery’s bed while Avery worked at her desk, speakers softly playing Count Basie. And it was kind of ridiculously perfect. Carrie wished it would last forever – and it did, until Phil, and until Ethan.

People have to grow up sometime, she supposes. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

*

It’s funny, really. During college, Carrie was always the one with the boyfriend. And now it’s Avery, who’s coming up on three years with Ethan, while Carrie takes photos of happy couples for a living and goes home to an empty apartment. Not that Carrie is bitter, or anything. But even when she was with Phil, she’d always make time for Avery – girls nights in, girls nights out, parties and shopping trips and sleepovers that didn’t really count because they lived in the same house anyway. But with Ethan, Avery’s different. They do everything together – just got home from two weeks away in Italy, actually, Carrie double-tapping their Instagram updates so aggressively she’s surprised she didn’t break her phone screen.

She’s not _jealous_. That’s so high school. But it just feels like Carrie’s stuck in a rut while Avery climbs a new rung of the ladder every damn day, and with every step she takes she leaves Carrie further and further behind. 

They’re not twenty anymore. Carrie knows they can’t be best friends and roommates forever. She can’t even remember the last time she saw Avery. (That’s a lie. She remembers exactly. It was three days before they left for Italy, and they’d gone to that organic café around the corner from Starbucks and Avery had ordered a soy chai latte because she was trying to give up caffeine and Carrie had ordered a green tea out of solidarity, but by the time they’d said their goodbyes only an hour later so Avery could run some errands before Ethan got home, her eyes were so tired she’d ducked into Starbucks and got her usual skim grande flat white. So, okay. Maybe she’s a little hung up on it.) The point is, they’re not co-dependent anymore. Carrie sorts her own washing now, Avery listens to her own music selection, and it’s fine, she’s fine, only it feels a little like she’s coming undone. Even Noah, so obviously hung up on Avery it’s embarrassing to watch, seems more put together than her at the moment, which. Is frankly disturbing.

Carrie is losing her goddamn mind. 

Avery and Ethan invite her over to their place for dinner maybe a week after they get back from Italy. Carrie spends longer than she would care to admit choosing what to wear. She arrives at their house with the nicest twenty-dollar bottle of wine she could find, trying to shove her heart back down into her ribcage from where it’s currently lodged in her throat. Avery opens the door with a huge smile, takes the bottle of wine from Carrie’s hands and sweeps her into a bone-crushing hug. “I missed you,” she says, and Carrie inhales her familiar scent of Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume that she’d given Avery for her twentieth birthday and she’d used ever since.

Ethan’s cooking, because of course he is, and he gives Carrie a quick hug over a chopping board full of vegetables. “Make yourself at home,” he says. “Avery’s dying to show you pictures.”

Carrie smiles and grabs a wine glass from the table, pouring herself a generous amount of red because she has a feeling she’s gonna need it tonight. Avery accepts a glass from her and they settle into the couch, heads bowed together over Ethan’s iPad as Avery flicks through the photos. “This is us at the Trevi Fountain, God it was so busy you could hardly find the room to throw your coins in – and the Colosseum, we actually got to go _underneath_ , it was incredible – on a longboat in Venice, this was taken before Ethan fell in – and oh my God, we ate so much gelato I thought I was going to explode –”

The photos only stop when Ethan serves up dinner. It’s spaghetti Bolognese, the sauce heaped with more veggies than Carrie’s probably eaten all week, and it’s perfect. (Of course it is.) Carrie’s on her third glass of wine now, having needed two to get through the picture slideshow, and she’s pleasantly buzzed, which is probably why it takes her this long to notice the rock on Avery’s finger. 

She chokes on her shiraz.

“When did _that_ happen?” she asks once Ethan has finished thumping her on the back. Avery blushes prettily, sharing a long glance with Ethan before answering Carrie.

“Our last day in Florence.”

“The way she was staring at David I knew I had to make my move before I lost her for good,” Ethan jokes, terrible even by his standards, but Avery laughs that same warm and familiar laugh she used to only share with Carrie and oh, God, this is actually happening.

“We wanted some time to ourselves before we told anyone,” Avery says, which is probably code for _we wanted a week full of passionate engaged sex_. Carrie kind of feels like she might throw up. “You’re the first person we’ve told.”

“Avery wanted it to be you,” Ethan says, smiling. “You two are such good friends, she wanted you to be the first to know.”

“ _And_ , I wanted to ask you something.” Avery bites her lip. Carrie feels like she’s on an episode of _Punk’d_ – any moment now, Ashton Kutcher will pop out and tell her it’s all pretend. Except Avery keeps talking. And Ashton is nowhere to be seen. “I was hoping you would be my maid of honour.”

Carrie imagines it. Avery’s wedding day, her looking perfect as usual, walking down the aisle towards Ethan. Carrie in front, holding a bouquet of pink lilies – Avery’s favourite – and watching the tears form in Ethan’s eyes as he stares at the love of his life. The ceremony, the vows, the subtle blowing of noses in the audience. And then: “I do.” They lean in for the kiss. Carrie watches them sway together like magnets finally connecting, and all she wants to do is push Ethan out of the way so Avery kisses her instead.

“Of course,” Carrie hears herself saying, as if underwater. “I would be honoured.” Avery squeals and crushes Carrie into a hug; Carrie wishes she could stay like this forever.

“So we were hoping to plan an engagement party on the anniversary of when we first met,” Avery says, pulling back and looking at Ethan again. “And you’re the best at that kind of thing, so I was hoping you could help us out?” She bites her lip. Carrie has never denied her anything, and she’s not about to start.

“Of course,” she says again, forcing herself to smile. Avery laughs delightedly as Carrie reaches for the bottle of red. This will require a fourth glass.

*

Somehow she finds herself having coffee with Noah, because that’s what people who have matching unrequited crushes on the same girl do, she supposes. Noah doesn’t know about hers, of course (at least, she hopes to God he doesn’t), and he hasn’t told her about his but it’s kind of fucking obvious, and Carrie would feel sorry for him if they weren’t in the exact same boat. And hey, at least he’s a guy – he has more of a chance with Avery than she ever will.

Noah stirs his ridiculous, whipped cream-topped coffee and sighs. Carrie rolls her eyes. “Gee, Noah, what stimulating conversation, thank you.”

“Sorry,” he says immediately, looking sheepish. “So… did Avery tell you the big news?”

“You mean the engagement?” Carrie sips her coffee just for something to do, even though it’s still too hot and burns her tongue. “Yeah. Pretty exciting.”

“Yeah.” Noah stares dejectedly at the table.

“She asked me to be her maid of honour.”

“Oh. That’s great.” Noah’s eyes stay downcast. And okay, Carrie understands, she really does, but this is just pathetic.

“Dude,” she says. “What is up with you?”

He meets her gaze. “Nothing,” he says, but sighs when she raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay. It’s not nothing. But it’s not – it’s not important. Just forget about it.”

He spoons a large dollop of whipped cream into his mouth. It’s quite possibly the saddest sight Carrie has ever witnessed. “Yeah, no, dude.” She grabs the spoon from his hand. “Talk to me. No more cream until you do.”

“It’s embarrassing,” he says, but he must be braver than Carrie, because he doesn’t stop talking. “I have, like, the biggest crush on Avery, okay?” He hides his face behind his hands. “I’m kind of in love with her, so you know, this whole thing seriously sucks ass for me.”

“Hey, look at me.” Carrie waits until Noah lifts his head and meets her gaze. “That took guts, man. Thank you for telling me. It must really suck.” He snorts. “But Noah, dude… you can’t let this control your life. You have to move on. She’s with Ethan now, and they’re in love –” Carrie’s voice catches on the last word, “And they’re getting married. Actual, for real, adult married. You gotta let it go.” She swallows, feeling the words settle deep in her stomach like stones. “If you keep holding onto this secret… it’s gonna ruin your friendship eventually. You know that, right?”

Noah sighs, taking his spoon back from her. He stirs the cream into his coffee. “I know,” he says eventually. “You’re right. It shouldn’t be my dirty little secret.” He looks at her, and she smiles. “I have to tell her.”

“What?” His words catch up to Carrie all at once. “No! All I meant was –”

“I have to own up to it,” Noah says, talking over her. He smiles. “Thanks, Carrie. This really helped. I’ll see you around, okay?” He stands and leaves without another word, coffee barely touched. Carrie stares after him in disbelief. That is so completely, utterly, _not_ the point she was trying to make. Avery has a big heart – the biggest Carrie’s ever known – and for Noah to break something like that to her?

It would crush her.

It would ruin her.

It could even ruin her and Ethan.

And, God help her, Carrie can't let that happen. She loves Avery, has for a long time – but she’d rather her own heart be broken than for Avery’s to be. But it seems that Noah doesn’t feel the same way.

Carrie grabs her keys, leaves a tip on the table beside her and Noah’s unfinished coffees, and runs out the door. If she can make it to Avery’s before Noah gets there – she has to. She can’t let him ruin Avery’s life on her own misguided advice. She would never forgive herself.

*

But traffic is not on Carrie’s side. It takes her twenty minutes longer than usual to get to Avery’s, and all she can hope for is that Noah got stuck in the same jam. His car’s not out the front, which is a good sign, and Carrie lets herself hope – until she knocks, and Avery opens the door, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and says, “Noah just left,” before sinking into Carrie’s arms.

They end up on the couch together, Avery cradling a cup of hot cocoa. Ethan’s at work, and won’t be home for hours, which is just as well because Avery – well, Avery’s a mess. “I don’t know what to do,” she sobs into her mug. “I don’t love him – at least, I don’t think I do, but he’s always been there for me, you know? And I haven’t dated anyone but Ethan since high school, how do I know he’s the one? And God, Carrie, I feel so bad because I’ve basically ruined the past three years of Noah’s life, and –”

It continues in that vein for some time.

“I just – he said he came here to end it, to move on. But why would he even tell me then?” Avery finishes, looking spent, and curls into Carrie’s arm when she offers it.

“I think he thought it would help him move on,” she says softly into Avery’s hair. “Come clean somehow. At least, that’s what he told me.” Avery stiffens in the embrace and looks up.

“You knew?” she whispers. Carrie sighs.

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“I’d suspected for a while, but… he told me today. And he may have misinterpreted some advice I gave him… which is the reason he came over and told you what he did.” She shuts her eyes to stop the tears from coming out. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, come on.” Avery lays a hand on her cheek and when Carrie opens her eyes it’s to see her best friend looking up at her, eyes shining and smiling tremulously. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, I just…” She sighs. “I feel so stupid. Not knowing.”

“You’re not stupid,” Carrie insists. “People can hide all sorts of feelings if they feel like they have to. I’m sure Noah never intended to infringe on your happiness.”

“I know he didn’t.” Avery sighs and sits up. “But it’s not like I can just forget about it, you know? I have to think about it. And I have to talk to Ethan.”

Carrie raises her eyebrows. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not going to hide it from him,” Avery says, frowning. “Secrets can destroy relationships.” Suddenly she smiles and grabs Carrie’s hand. “I’m glad we don’t have any. And I’m so glad you’re my best friend.” She leans forward, enveloping her in a hug, and Carrie would be lying if she said she didn’t close her eyes, breathe in deep, and savour the moment. “I love you,” Avery says on a sigh, and the words hurt more than Carrie ever thought they would.

“I love you too,” she whispers, hands splayed against Avery’s back, and it feels like an admittance and a lie all at once.

*

A week passes with radio silence from Avery. Carrie meets up with Noah again, in the park this time, and he tells her he’s going away for a while. “I just need to clear my head,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t have said anything to Avery, but it actually helped me a lot, you know? Made me realise I need to get over myself and just move on. Does that sound selfish?”

“Kind of,” Carrie says, and Noah laughs.

“Well, maybe I want to try out selfish for a while. See where that takes me.”

Carrie hugs him, long and hard. “Just don’t come back an asshole, okay?” Noah grins at her and leaves, arms swinging as he walks. It’s kind of heart-warming to watch.

Carrie spends the rest of her time working. She has a bunch of themed weddings on this week, and taking pictures of couples dressed as Aragorn and Arwen, Frankenstein’s monster and his bride, and on one particularly memorable occasion Marlin and Dory from _Finding Nemo_ (people are… weird) is actually pretty fun, and takes her mind off of the whole Avery situation, if for a little while.

She starts looking at holiday deals online, thinking she may as well take a leaf out of Noah’s book and move on – literally. There’s cheap flights going to Peru in the spring – she bookmarks the page and finds herself going back to it, again and again, tapping her credit card against the palm of her hand and thinking _maybe. Maybe._

Avery calls her on a Tuesday when Carrie’s in the middle of a shoot. She calls her back that night. “Hey, sorry, I was working,” she says.

“Did you want to come over?” Avery asks, and there’s a smile in her voice.

This time Carrie brings over vodka, grapefruit juice, and a packet of maraschino cherries. Avery laughs when she sees them, and pours both of them a drink immediately.

The house is quiet. “Where’s Ethan?” Carrie asks, and Avery looks at her hands.

“At his parents’,” she says, and Carrie manages not to choke on her drink. “We’re taking a break.”

Carrie puts down her drink. “Jesus, Ave, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Avery gives a small shrug and then smiles, small and mischievous. “I’m not.”

“What?”

Avery sets her drink down beside Carrie’s. Their glasses look the same; they’ll probably end up confusing them later tonight. “Noah kind of… opened my eyes, I guess. Made me see what I was missing.”

Carrie’s stomach twists into a sailor’s knot. “I don’t understand.”

“When he told me he loved me. He said it felt like being in love with your best friend. Like sun showers on a summer’s day. Like falling backwards and someone being there to catch you. Like coming home.”

“That’s… poetic of him.”

Avery laughs. “Yeah, I was surprised too. But after sorting through everything he said, after you left that day… I realised something.”

“Oh yeah?” Carrie asks, trying to keep her voice and heart rate steady. She succeeds at neither.

“I realised that it doesn’t feel like that with Ethan. That he’s the only guy I’ve ever seriously been with and that I think it’s _because_ he’s the only guy that I haven’t left him yet.”

Carrie looks up from where her gaze had drifted down to her hands. “Wait, what?”

“I like Ethan, Carrie. And I like Noah. And I love them, but not the way you’re supposed to love someone you’re marrying in two months.” Avery reaches out a single, careful hand and lays it against Carrie’s cheek. It’s her left. Only then does Carrie realise that the engagement ring is gone.

“That night,” she continues, like she’s completely unaware of the fact that Carrie’s heart is about to beat right out of her chest, “You said you loved me.”

Carrie’s mouth is dry. “Yes,” she manages to say.

“And I said I loved you.”

“I remember something like that, yeah.”

Avery’s smile softens, turns gentle at the edges. “And we’ve been best friends for years, and you’ve always been there for me. And I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“I don’t –” Carrie says, but Avery cuts her off, voice soft and undemanding but insistent.

“And I do. Love you, that is. Like you should love someone you’re meant to marry.”

All the breath leaves Carrie’s lungs at once. Avery is looking at her, and her eyes are big and blue, and Carrie could pick out the colour in a heartbeat from a million varieties of cerulean, sky, and sea. Avery’s hand dips downwards until it’s cradling her neck.

“I love you, Carrie,” she says again, and it feels like the opening up of the skies on a cloudless day and the sticky feel of summer rain against her skin. Carrie leans in slowly, wanting to trace the outline of Avery in this moment in her mind forever, and Avery reels her in just as slow, mindful of their glasses, mindful of the rain, mindful of the fact that in her palm she holds Carrie’s heart, beating fast and steady.

When they kiss, it’s like kissing her best friend. When Carrie pushes Avery down against the carpet, slow, gentle, it feels almost like a trust fall into the waiting arms behind. And when Carrie slides down Avery’s body, feeling every pore of skin with her fingers hot like brands, and whispers kisses into the soft swell of her stomach and lower, lower, it doesn’t feel like coming home, because Carrie’s home is an empty apartment and a bookmarked tab for single return flights to Peru. It doesn’t feel like coming home – but it does feel like making one.

*

**Epilogue**

*

“Come on, babe,” Avery laughs, breaking the pose and making Carrie scowl. “You must’ve taken like fifteen already.”

“I can’t get the perfect shot if you keep moving around, Ave,” Carrie says, holding up her camera again. “Just one more, okay?”

“Excuse me,” a voice says. Carrie turns to see a middle-aged woman smiling at her. “Did you want me to take one of you both?”  

“YES PLEASE,” Avery yells, unnecessarily loudly. Carrie rolls her eyes but thanks the woman, passing over her camera.

“I hate you,” Carrie says when she reaches Avery’s side, looping an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders, Avery’s slipping comfortably around her waist.

“Uh huh,” Avery says, squeezing.

“Say cheese!” the woman calls to them, counting down from three. “Three, two –”

Just before _one_ , Avery turns in Carrie’s arms, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Carrie’s eyes close before she realises what she’s doing.

“Perfect!” The woman walks over and hands Carrie back her camera. “Have a great time you two.” She smiles and hurries off. Carrie flips the camera around so she can see the picture.

“Oh my God, you look sooooo cute,” Avery gushes, zooming in on Carrie’s face which is scrunched up in surprise as photo-Avery plants a kiss on her cheek. “Now that’s _gotta_ be the money shot, right?”

Carrie rolls her eyes, but Avery’s pretty much spot on: the photo is almost candid, the lighting is just right, and their faces are kind of stupidly perfect. “ _Peru_ -fect,” Avery laughs, and Carrie groans.

“I really, really hate you,” she says, looping the camera strap back around her neck and trying not to smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Avery says, grabbing Carrie’s hand and squeezing. “I love you too.”


End file.
